Lost
by Daishiko
Summary: When everything important is lost and things don't turn out how you thought they'd be.... [complete]
1. part 1

_ Lost_

He had been drinking. Kurogane couldn't remember why he was drinking or even what world that were stuck in this time, but his severe lack of limb control and slurred speech made it obvious that this was just not a social inebriation.

There might have been something to celebrate. Had they found the last of Sakura-hime's feathers? Had he learned the lesson Tomoyo-hime intended for him, and could go home at last? Had Syaoran finally pulled his head out of his ass and made a move on Sakura-hime? Did that idiot Fai finally decide to cut the act?

Kurogane took in the room from his position on the floor. His head lolled to the side as he looked around. It was just a small empty room two futons against each adjacent wall and a door opposite him. In the middle of the room was a low table, stacked with bottles and cans and glasses, which he assumed were responsible for his intoxication.

His head slumped downwards of its own accord. His clothes were baggy and torn. His arms looked thinner and weak. His hands were shaking.

Kurogane's mind frantically sobered, demanding the location of his sword. His eyes took in the quarters again, but still did not see it.

The door creaked open caused Kurogane's head to snap up. The older man breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Syaoran. The boy offered him a weak smile as greeting.

A bowl of noodles was placed in front of him on the table. There were also long pieces of shaped wood, which he assumed were homemade chopsticks. He raised an eyebrow at Syaoran who blushed slightly and busied himself with his own meal.

Now that he was sitting nearby, Kurogane noticed small changes from the Syaoran he last remembered. He was taller but still painfully thin. His face was lined with worry marks and there were large circles under his eyes. What had happened in this world to change him so much?

The sinking feeling in his stomach coupled with the inability to make his hands stop shaking long enough to use the chopsticks resulted in Kurogane eating very little. He glared at the table as if it alone was responsible for the frustration of the situation. Kurogane grabbed an open bottle next to him and drank heartily. When he placed it down, he saw Syaoran looking at him with sad eyes.

"Wakatteiru," Syaoran placed a steady hand over his shaking one. How long had their hands been the same size? "Watashi mo koishitau."

Kurogane's brow furrowed in confusion. He had no idea what Syaoran was saying, and was pretty sure that he nothing to do with his drunken state. Suddenly, Kurogane remembered Mokona's translation abilities, the absent members of the troupe, and the stranded state he and Syaoran would remain in forever.

Kurogane swallowed thickly and wondered if his sword wasn't the only thing that he'd lost.

* * *

A/_N: A friend of mine is really into Tsubsasa and demanded I write something because there isn't much fanfiction out there for it. This is the result. I hope what happened was clear. If not, please leave a review and I'll attempt to make it more clear. Thank you for taking the time to read this. _


	2. part 2

_title:_ Lost  
_chapter:_ 2/2 (complete)  
_disclaimer:_ This is a fanwork based on characters and sitauations created and owned by CLAMP, the goddesses of manga that they are. Please don't sue me for I am making no money off this.  
_warnings:_ implied character death (eep.)

_author's note:_ Well, due to popular demand (and confusion), I've written a second part. I'm still being vague because I'm horrible at action and it would best be left to your imaginations. Most of this was written a month ago, but my laptop is broken. Luckily, I had sent a good chunk to a friend to look over and she was able to send it back.

Anyway, I hope this isn't a disappointment for those who were looking for more. Cheers.

* * *

**Lost  
**_part 2_

Syaoran returned to the room with dinner, to find Kurogane staring at him. Despite his permanently inebriated state, the older man seemed much more coherent than usual.

He seemed to know who Syaoran was, that the world they were in was not where either of them belonged, and could feed himself. It was wonderful compared to those days when Kurogane would not even move from his cot, content to stare at Syaoran suspiciously through cloudy eyes until he passed out again. It was a small victory, but taken lightly as this type of day came very seldom and didn't mean Kurogane was any closer to snapping himself out of what Syaoran now accepted as a permanent depressionary state.

It had been years since they arrived in this world. Syaoran had been forcibly aged into a man in one horrific moment when three of his dear friends were ripped from his life. One of those friends, he was able to admit to himself now, he had loved very much.

At night he still dreamed of her. Sometimes they were filled with the childhood memories that had been sacrificed to Yuko; things that she would never had the chance to remember.

Sometimes he would recall that day. The one that was marked in red and pain. He would hear Sakura-hime's broken, high-pitched cry that always tore at his heart. She could have been screaming out a word, a name, a warning, a plea, but she was never allowed through the first syllable. Syaoran thought he preferred it that way.

He dreamt about the would-have-beens too. The should-have-beens. There was the one where they found the last feather and they'd go back to the palace where Touya-ou would shake Syoaran's hand, accepting him at last. Sakura would say that she remembered him despite what the Time Witch had said, and that she loved him. She said that she had always loved him.

There was another one set in a world he'd never seen before. Syaoran would come home from work and Sakura would be there cooking dinner for him. They would talk through dinner in a relaxed, normal way. At least he guessed at what would be normal for them, since he hadn't experienced real normalcy in a long time.

There were other dreams too. Ones that young men often had, but most didn't have them about dead girls. Syaoran would move on top of Sakura at different paces, locations, and scenarios. The most frequent was sweet and loving with the Sakura who remembered him, who loved him,  
who hadn't left him alone. There was also tentative and nervous encounters with the Sakura-hime he had fallen in love with all over again on their journey. Occasionally it was fast and punishing, with Syaoran grabbing his partner by the hair and demanding of her where she was and why she had been gone for so long.

The first time he'd woken from the latter, he'd gotten utterly smashed and had a quick, angry off with a brown haired girl in a dark alleyway. A week later he'd walked in on Kurogane collapsed on top of a flat-chested platinum blonde woman. That made more sense than he wanted it to.

Despite their content and the emotions that surfaced because of them, Syaoran was grateful for the dreams. They kept him sane. They reminded him or who he was and how he'd gotten there. They kept him different from Kurogane. Syaoran pitied the old ninja at times. In the beginning, when they first recognized the situation they were in, stranded in a strange world, their guide gone, friends dead, and no way out in sight,  
they had both worked tirelessly to find a way back to Yuko, Japan, Clow, anywhere. However after years of searching, they came to realize that there were no higher level beings to be found here nor anyone that even knew other worlds existed.

Syaoran couldn't even find the feather that had led them into this desolate place to begin with. He searched desperately for it, just to have a piece of Sakura. He never abandoned that particular quest, not wanting to believe that the feathers disappeared with Sakura, herself.

Finally, giving up hope of ever escaping this isolated world, Kurogane took to drinking constantly to numb the anger and pain, leaving Syaoran to work long hours in order to support them both. He didn't mind the work. The jobs were always very physical but well paying. The few times he thought of quitting and taking an easy job or just giving up entirely, Syaoran just looked at his old friend, and he determination was resolved. He promised himself that he would not become that. He would not sit and let himself atrophy into nothing. He would not try to forget the good and bad that came with the past.

He would not let them die of starvation after so much struggling. He would care for and protect the last friend he had left.

After all, Syaoran had lost everything else.


End file.
